“Yes, I called when we got in so she’d know we arrived okay.” Cassandra laid the jacket on the closest chair and turned back toward the flames. “She’d just left the hospital when I reached her.”
Reilly clenched his hands into tight fists. “How…how is her friend?”
“She’s fine. Mom said something about a mix up in medication and they want to keep her overnight for observation. Mom’s going to visit for a few days since I’m up here with you.”
His lungs released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He dropped his head and closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears.
Digger was going to be okay. This time.
His buddy was fighting an uphill battle against an enemy who didn’t grant too many victories. If anyone could fight cancer and come out alive on the other side, it was Lou DiMarrio. If Digger could single-handedly fight off a dozen enemy soldiers in order to save his sorry ass from a fate worse than death, he could do anything.
“Hey, don’t go checking out on me here.”
Reilly looked at his arm. A hand gripped his wrist. Broken, dirt-encrusted fingernails bit into his skin as the dark hand jutted past the frayed brown cuff of a uniform. He blinked hard until the image disappeared, replaced with Cassandra’s smooth pale skin.
“I’m fine.” He pulled from her touch and forced away the memories.
Damn, one minute he was lost in the past of his childhood and then decade-old events he’d worked so hard to leave behind after his discharge from the military were coming back to haunt him.
He had to get his mind back into the present. “How do you know it’s a ‘she’?”
“W-what?”
“Your mom’s friend,” Reilly put the now useless flashlight on the floor. “How can you be so sure it’s a female?”
“I don’t know.” Cassandra again stretched out her hands toward the heat. “I just assumed it was, I guess. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know her name.”
“Or his name.” Reilly didn’t know why he was pushing this issue with Cassandra. He knew Margaret hadn’t told her daughter about her relationship with Digger yet. Maybe he wanted to know Cass would be okay with a new man in her mother’s life. He could tell from the look on Margaret’s face and the tone of Digger’s voice, those two were really gone on each other.
“My father’s been gone less than a year. I don’t really think my mother would be involved again with someone so soon—”
“There’s a time limit on grieving?”
“That’s not what I meant. My mother’s life changed dramatically when we found out about my father’s de—after his death. We haven’t been able to spend as much time together lately due to my work, but she’s kept busy with her charity work and her friends.”
“Including the friend she’s with now. And this isn’t the first time she’s visited her, or him, is it?”
He saw the confusion on her face. Think fast, Murdock. “You were the one who told Willard your mother and I met in Washington D.C. during one of her many visits there.”
“That’s right, I did. You know, neither you nor my mother told me how you came to work for her. For us. How did she—”
Reilly turned to stare at the fire. “That’s none of your business. Question number five.”
“None of my—you’ve got to be kidding!”
“If you mother wants to discuss it with you, that’s her choice.” He looked over at her. “But you’re not going to hear it from me.”
“Not going to hear it from you,” Cassandra repeated. “Hmmm, sounds very mysterious.”
Reilly recognized the determined glint in her eye. Time to get back to their original discussion. “Would it be so bad? Your mother involved with a man?”
“I don’t know, it’s not really something I’ve thought about, I guess. She did start to tell me something today at the house. She wasn’t really making much sense and she surprised—oh, Reilly, look.”
Reilly’s gaze followed her pointed finger. A bedraggled cat sat on the corner of the brick hearth. It returned his stare for a moment before dipping its head to clean one paw. “Well, I guess we know what brushed up against you in the dark.”
“Oh, the poor thing, it looks like a drowned rat.” Cassandra inched closer to the animal. “I think it might be the one we almost hit outside.”
“You could be right, if it somehow slipped inside the same time we did.” Reilly shrugged out of his leather jacket and hung it over the back of another chair. The noise startled the cat and it vanished into the darkness. “At least it’s got the right idea. We’re both as wet as he is. Take off your clothes.”
“Excuse me?”
Ignoring the way his words caused her to stiffen, hell, the way it caused certain parts of his own body to jump back to attention, Reilly sat on the edge of the hearth. His back to the roaring fire, he enjoyed the heat seeping through his wet tee shirt.
He yanked off one boot and sock before reaching for the other. “You’re never going to get warm or dry standing there soaking wet. We’re here for the night, so get comfortable.”
“I-I can’t just strip down right here in front of you!”
Reilly rose, stopping to lean his boots toward the fire before he turned to face her. He saw her try, in vain, to control another tremor that racked her body. “Yes, you can. Last night I saw you all the way down to your lacy unmentionables.”
A haunted look came into her eyes. “Was it only last night? It feels like it happened so long ago. To someone else.”
Her words stung. Was she talking about the two of them? About what happened between them? “Nope, that was you and me, just like now.”
“But the windows, everything is so open. What if someone is out there…watching…”
Okay, he was a jerk. She was talking about what had happened at the ball, not later in her bedroom. “Cass, no one is out there.” He softened his tone. “I’ve been on my guard, watching and checking. You’re safe here.”
“But there’s n-nothing t-to cover—to d-dry off with—”
Reilly leaned toward an outrageously long sofa and yanked at the heavy cloth draped over it, gathering the abundant material in his hands.
Unexpectedly, a long ago summer memory exploded in his mind.
A cool breeze flowed through the wide-open windows at sunset. He and his mother were lying at either end of the almost twelve-foot-long couch, facing each other. Knees bent, their bare feet pressed together, ready for battle. They would push against the other, his mother bursting forth in uninhibited but contained laughter, mindful of Rann passed out asleep nearby. The battle would continue until one of them could fully straighten their legs and lock their knees, earning the title of winner.
It took a few summers before he was finally strong enough to beat her. The year he turned fourteen added six more inches to his height and forty pounds of muscle, finally granting him victory.
Nevertheless, his mother’s laughter and the freedom the threesome had to act silly was the real triumph. The longer her marriage to Ranndolph Carrington lasted, the quieter his mother became. Until the person he’d always known as smiling, telling silly jokes and covering him with kisses became a silent, restrained woman who turned a blind eye to her husband’s brand of discipline.
Shaking off the recollection, Reilly handed the drop cloth to Cassandra and turned away. “There, will that do?”
“I-I guess so. Where are you going?”
Away. Away from memories that refused to stay buried in the past.
Reilly stalked back toward the front of the house. “I’m gonna double check the windows and see what else I can find. If you need me, just yell.”
“You can’t see anything.”
His footsteps faltered. Damn, he kept forgetting the fact he was supposed to be a stranger in this house. “My eyes have adjusted to the dark and the lightning helps. I’m giving you some privacy. I expect to find you out of those wet clothes when I get back.”
“Is
that an order?”
“Yes,” he called out without looking back. “And you’re up to question six.”
Actually, she was further along than that, but he figured his surprising request earned her a couple of freebies.
He checked the windows and the doors making sure all were secure, then stopped at the first bedroom off the main hall. The furniture, beds stripped of their mattresses and empty dresser drawers pulled out to let the air circulate, still graced the room that once belonged to Rann. It smelled a bit musty, but the lack of dust on the furniture and the drop cloths told him someone was taking care of the place. Minus the piles of toys and stuffed animals, it looked just how he remembered.
Shutting down the memories before they could fill his head again, Reilly quickly moved from room to room. He only found more drop cloths. He guessed they’d have to do as blankets. Confident he could keep the fire going thanks to plenty of wood, he figured it should be enough to keep them warm and dry.
There’s always body heat.
Reilly clenched his fingers into tight fists, crushing the material in his hands. His tongue stole across his dry lips. Cassandra’s taste was still there. He knew it was wrong to want her. There couldn’t be anything between them, not that he wanted anything from her.
Other than sex, you mean.
Yeah, okay I want to have sex with her, Reilly silently argued with himself. I’ve admitted that from the beginning. But we don’t always get what we want.
Making his way back toward the living room, he could see the glow from the fireplace, and its welcoming light pulled at him. He entered the main room and stopped.
She looked like she was on fire.
Shadowed flames of dark red and orange flowed over her pale skin as she sat in front of the fireplace. Thanks to the rain and the dark night, her hair looked almost black. She swept the long strands of curls up and off her shoulders, held them near the heat for a few moments before letting them slip from her fingers to tumble back against her body.
The drop cloth she’d wrapped around her middle picked that exact moment to come loose and pool around her hips and legs leaving only her feet visible. She trembled, but tipped her head back, repeating the dance between her hair and the fire again and again. Her rhythmic actions caused her breasts to strain against the lace material barely covering them.
Red.
Reilly didn’t know if it was the fire or his wishful thinking that had her dressed only in red lace, but his plan to stay away from her melted the moment he stepped back into the room. He hadn’t meant to kiss her before, when she’d been on her knees, stumbling around his legs looking for his lighter. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself.
The moment she’d returned his kiss he’d known it wasn’t fear that drew her into his arms for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. He hadn’t been wrong about the fervor and the want he tasted in her kiss. He hadn’t had to coax or charm his way into her mouth, she’d met him willingly.
“Hey, what are you doing there?” she called out.
Feeling like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, Reilly couldn’t speak. He didn’t know how to respond.
“What have you got?” Cassandra asked, pulling the drop cloth up over one shoulder and reaching out her other hand. “Come on now, don’t be shy.”
Shy? Him? She must be kidding.
Then Reilly saw the large cat slink out of the shadows. He couldn’t make out the dark lump it held tightly in its jaw, but he instantly knew Cassandra wasn’t going to be too happy with the animal’s gift.
“That’s it, come here fella…oh, gross!”
“Hmmm, not the word I would’ve picked.”
She jumped when Reilly stepped out of the shadows. The cat darted into the dark again when he moved to stand in front of the fireplace, his gaze never straying in her direction.
Cassandra hurried to cover up while Reilly continued to face the fireplace, regardless of the heat that stole across her skin. It had nothing to do with the blazing fire. No, the man who stood with his hands on his hips staring at the dancing flames created this feeling in her.
“I didn’t hear you come back.” Cassandra cursed the breathlessness of her voice, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
Not notice? Reilly? Not likely.
“I take it you didn’t like your friend’s gift.” He dropped a pile of material to the ground.
Cassandra looked up and found he’d turned to look at her. “Oh, you mean the cat? Yuck! He had a dead mouse between his teeth.”
Reilly grinned. “I think he’s trying to impress you.”
“Diamonds impress, not dead rodents.”
His gruff laughter shot a thrill through her, but it was dashed a moment later when his grin disappeared. He’d been running hot and cold on her ever since they got in the car hours ago back in the city. The seesawing was driving her crazy. One minute he snapped at her over his cell phone dying, the next he touched her with such gentleness. At times, he seemed very far away, but physically he was always so close she had to keep telling herself this was the same man who’d rejected her twenty-four hours ago.
But not twenty minutes ago.
No, twenty minutes ago he’d kissed her with a desperation matching her own. And while she felt safe with Reilly, she didn’t feel safe from the desire she had for this man. Or from the desire she knew he felt for her.
She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice and taste it in his kisses. She’d never felt this way before. She didn’t know what to do and that scared her more than anything. He’d seen her sitting in front of the fire drying her hair. He’d watched her as she sat there, the drop cloth forgotten in her lap as she let her body drink in the fire’s heat.
How long had he stood there? Had he watched while she undressed?
No. Reilly wouldn’t do that.
He’d gone into the darkness to find something for them to use to keep warm and dry, and he hadn’t come back empty handed. She’d already pulled off the drop cloths from the living room furniture, using them to carpet the cold wood floor beneath her. She reached for one of the cloths he’d brought back. “I guess this was all you could find.”
“Yeah, they’re going to have to do for the night.” Reilly peeled off his holster and placed it by his boots. He then reached up between his shoulder blades and grabbed at his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
He looked down at her. “Getting undressed.”
“Right now? Right here?”
He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. “Right now, right here. And that was questions number seven and eight.”
Cassandra tried to look away, but it was useless. Her eyes took their fill of the now familiar wide planes of his chest before traveling down to the engraved muscles of his stomach. She’d seen that faint trail of wispy hairs that started below his belly button before, but she continued to be fascinated at how it continued downward until it disappeared into the low waistband of his jeans.
He reached for the button at his fly. Cassandra’s hand shot up in front of her, the drop cloth still clenched in her fist.
“Reilly!”
“What?”
Thank goodness the many folds of the cloth acted as a curtain. All Cassandra could see was the outer edges of his still jean-clad legs. “Can’t you do that somewhere else?”
“Fine.”
He took the drop cloth from her hand, his fingers brushing hers. The heat of his touch burned her skin. “But I’m not going far. I’m freezing my ass off.” He moved into the shadows near the fireplace. “Number nine.”
“How do you do that?”
The rasp of a zipper being lowered was the only sound in the room. “The same way you did,” Reilly finally said, “one leg at a time.”
“That’s not what I meant, Murdock, and you know it.” The rustle of the material roared in her ears louder than the now-gone thunder. Or was it the pounding of her heart? “I was talking about how you are
keeping track of my questions.”
“I’ve got a good memory.” He walked back in front of the fire and bent down. The drop cloth, wound around his waist, pulled tightly across his butt as he arranged his clothes to dry without putting them too close to the flames.
“I used the chair. If you want you can hang your stuff with mine.”
“I only wrapped this thing around my waist like I would a towel after a shower,” Reilly said. “If I stand, there’s a chance it’ll fall off, so I think I’m safer doing it this way. Ah, damn!”
He dropped to the floor with a thud and grabbed his knee. The now familiar string of colorful curse words, laced with a hint of both Spanish and French, filled the air. He pulled his folded leg out from under him, and sitting fully on the floor, cradled his knee in his hands.
“I guess asking if it hurts would be a dumb question, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Cassandra reached out to lay her hand in the middle of his wide shoulders. Shoulders that effectively blocked the radiating heat. But not the fiery glow, as she saw crisscrossed rows of scars on his back. She dropped her hand to her lap.
Where did those come from?
“I won’t ask if you’re okay either—” she tried to keep her tone light, “—so you can’t count those questions against me.”
Reilly didn’t look back at her. He kept his head bent as he concentrated on massaging his knee. “Gee, just when I thought we were halfway done.”
Cassandra bit down on her lower lip before she continued. “Can I ask why you became a Marine?”
“I already told you, a John Wayne movie.”
“Come on, there has to be more to it than that. I mean, to make such a life-altering decision, based on a movie?”
His shoulders rose and fell when he pulled in a few deep breaths before he spoke. “It was two weeks before I graduated from high school. The local cops had picked me up, again, for—well, being drunk and stupid. They tossed me in a jail cell to sleep it off while they called home.
“The deputy was watching a movie on an old, beat up black-and-white TV when my stepfather arrived.” Reilly continued to massage his knee as he spoke. “He gave the deputy an extra hundred bucks to keep me there until morning. He said they were having a big party at the house and the last thing he wanted to deal with was the ‘trash’.”
Reilly's Promise Page 18
